Can I Be Your Wife?
by Behindthebook08
Summary: She always knew that she would have to make the first move. (#2 in my Song of My Heart Series, based loosely on the Mary Lambert song of the same title.)


**A/N: Happy Monday! I've been working on a ton of projects at once, but here's a nice fluffy one-shot to make you all smile! (I hope!) This is the next story in my new collection, the Song of My Heart Series. Each story is based off of a different song, and each story revolves around a different Hermione/? pairing. If you are interested, please consider following my writing. I will be including some very common pairings, but also exploring many of the less common, and some that are entirely unheard of. It should be a lovely time for all involved!**

**If you're interested in knowing the songs which these are based on (or just this fic in general) consider following me on Twitter under LadyChristineM.**

**Without further ado, Can I be Your Wife? (based off of Mary Lambert's song of the same title).**

* * *

The two stood on opposite ends of the classroom, each wearing a similar expression of complete exasperation.

Her hands were placed carefully on her hips, her stance as if for battle, and her left eyebrow was quirked ever so slightly, as if daring her partner to speak. She had known when their relationship began that he would never make the first move.

She had practically been forced to blackmail him into going on a date with her, and he had sent her a note of apology after she kissed him the first time. Most women probably would have run from that—but not Hermione Granger. She had known in her every pore that he felt the same, and that he just needed his inner Gryffindor coaxed, ever so slightly.

She had been right, and now it was four years later.

On the other side of the room he slouched, exhausted and far less in the mood to battle the fiery woman before him. His robes lay discarded over the desk, his tie loosened ever so slightly. His hair was flat and uninspired as his hand rubbed his eyes tiredly. He looked ever the bedraggled professor. His mouth formed the slightest hint of a frown, and his eyes drooped with complete exasperation.

He adored her, and had since before it was entirely proper, but he was also stubborn and unmoving when it came to this _particular_ issue. "Hermione," he said weakly.

"Remus," she replied with false seriousness, a playful grin starting to spread.

"Why don't we just go to dinner—it's getting late."

She grinned ever so slightly more, and he could tell she was actually enjoying this. She was looking at him like he was a new challenge, a new puzzle to solve. "We can go to dinner as soon as I have your answer," she said politely, causing him to sigh.

"Love, I'm not even sure I understand the question." He ran an aggravated hand through his hair.

Her laugh echoed off of the desks as she perched carefully on the edge of one, "It's a fairly well known question, Remus. _Will you marry me_?"

He chuckled slightly, "Alright, I understand the question Professor Granger, I apologize for being so unclear. But I still don't think you really _get it_. Hermione, I love you, but I'm twice your age, and a werewolf to boot, I don't have any savings. I have absolutely nothing to offer you. Marrying me, it's just a bad idea. This way—well you have an easy escape hatch, if need be."

Her eyebrow quivered dangerously, all the humor draining from her expression. He felt himself stepping back. He knew that expression quite well, as did all of her students. Hermione was preparing to scold. "Alright Professor, let me try a new tactic. I'm young, rich, and a half-breed." His eyebrows furrowed immediately, what was she doing?

"I'm also brilliant, meaning my youth is actually an obnoxious curse. The men from my personal age realm are entirely incapable of having an actual conversation with me. So my youth, which you are always _so _concerned about, is actually one of the main reasons why I would very much like to spend my life with you. I suppose if I was 42 as well, then I wouldn't have as much trouble finding someone to spend their time with me, and they probably wouldn't complain as much."

"Hermione, I didn't—" She held up a hand to silence him.

"I'm not finished," She said with a shake of her head, and he beckoned to her to continue. "I'm also completely and entirely rich. The ministry, in all of its infinite wisdom, thought that a ludicrous number of Galleons would make up for the words carved into my arm, and the years they spent allowing the murderous psychopaths of this world hunt me down.

"I could therefore spend the rest of my life unemployed, and still leave behind college tuition for several children. I have no _interest_ in your money, or lack thereof. I have no interest in _anyone's _money or lack thereof. If I was interested in _money_ I would have accepted Draco Malfoy's invitation to the Ministry Ball last week."

"Malfoy did what?" Remus interrupted, but Hermione simply continued on.

"As for your werewolf status—for one, you also have war hero status, but that is beside the point. You may have forgotten, but by law, I am of the same status as you—being that muggles are considered a different species. So, my darling man, if you're a half breed—so am I."

"Hermione, please, you know it isn't all that simple," he argued weakly. He didn't enjoy letting her down, but he _knew_ this wouldn't be a good idea, that he couldn't give her what she needed.

"It is _exactly_ that simple," she said with a frown, and he felt his resolve weakening.

"No, Hermione—we can't. I'm sorry."

"How's this for simple, Remus." She said sliding gracefully off of the desk, and kneeling in front of him. He swallowed thickly and raised an eyebrow at that, "Remus Lupin, I met you, _really _met you, five years ago. And I knew _then_, that I wanted to spend forever with you," a small grin spread across her face, "Especially when you said you liked NPR, and sleeping in, and drinking coffee, and playing scrabble."

"Hermione," he whispered, a small smile blooming on his face. She grinned, seemingly knowing that his answer had finally changed.

"Can I be your wife?" she asked quietly, with a small nervous smile on her face. For all of her speeches, she actually was rather nervous that when it came down to it, he simply wouldn't _want _to marry her.

After a speech like that though, and with her hair slightly frizzed from frustration, Remus couldn't do anything other than nod.

* * *

**I warned you it was short... perhaps another short one will be coming soon. Maybe. A bit.**


End file.
